


roll around this roundabout

by theredvipers



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, snippet? it's not complete :(, something i had been working on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 08:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18824827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredvipers/pseuds/theredvipers
Summary: Papi doesn’t like Dega. He doesn’t know if his artistic skills are worth the pain in the ass that the other man represents.





	roll around this roundabout

**Author's Note:**

> this had been on my drafts for months and i was sick of looking at it and not making any progress, but i had to get it out of my system. maybe this'll motivate me to write more? so yeah, sorry it's not complete, but i'll try to write more!
> 
> title from tongue tied by grouplove.

“Alright then, it’s Papi’s turn to go pick up the merchandise,” Celier says as soon as they’ve finished going over some art gallery’s floor plans. It’s their usual get-in-get-out kind of job, so it’s been relatively quick to plan.

This time, however, it is Papi’s turn to go pick up the piece they will replace from their forger. A man named Louis Dega, an absolutely brilliant painter and professional pain in the ass. They may have never spoken more than five words to each other–until now–but there is something about the other man’s general presence that grates on Papi’s nerves.

Nenette picks up on this, well aware as she is about how Papi doesn’t like Dega simply because he does not. She giggles, “I’m sure Papi will be delighted.”

Papi glares at her, and then, Julot too picks up on it and starts laughing. Papi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just tell me when I gotta go get it and let’s get this over with.”

“Papi, I just don’t understand what Dega has ever done to you,” Celier says, but still writes down Dega’s address and the time Papi is supposed to meet him. “You’ve barely spoken to each other.”

“Dega’s a pretty chill guy when you get to meet him,” Julot adds.

“ _Especially_ pretty,” says Nenette. She laughs again when Papi glares at her. She knows it’s not like that–or maybe she doesn’t. Or maybe she knows something Papi doesn’t? The point is that Papi just doesn’t like Dega, and Dega seems to barely tolerate him as it is.

He doesn’t know what it is, honest. They met and didn’t click, and neither of them has tried to do much about the issue at hand. It happened just like that, too. Papi remembers it all; Celier introducing them, Dega making some clever remark about this or the other, Papi replying, things escalating to the point Celier had thought it would come to blows, but it hadn’t. Afterwards, Celier had told him, Dega had told Celier that he found Papi ‘a bit vulgar and uncouth’. Papi, on his part, remembers referring to him as ‘someone with a stick up his butt’, or something of the like.

They’ve managed to keep it civil, despite their disastrous first meeting. It's not like they have to work with each other often, as Nenette or Juliot usually pick up whatever forgery Dega has made. This time, neither of them can go at the time Dega can meet with any of them, so the task falls to Papi.

He decides to get it over with. He will go to Dega’s studio—because, Papi is sure, the address is not Dega’s place. He would never let Papi, of all people, into his place—get the painting, and get out. It’s easy and quick enough.

*

When Dega opens the door, he’s wearing glasses; round and that fall on his nose  rather low. He’s in a henley and some paint-stained jeans, almost so blindingly handsome Papi would not be able to deny it if asked about it. He squints before recognition seems to down on him.

“Right,” Dega says, making way so Papi can get inside the studio. It is small, but big enough Dega can keep some of his finished paintings, canvases and his other tools. “Come in, come in. Do excuse the messiness. Just the usual.”

Although they don’t know each other like that, Papi can tell something has Dega shaken, unable to meet Papi’s eyes. The other man is rather squirrelly as it is, but Papi shrugs it off. Maybe he finds the concept of Papi’s vulgarity invading his space rather upsetting. Whatever his deal is, it’s nothing to do with Papi. “Don’t mind if I do.” He says as he lets himself in, and closes the door behind him.

This is a side of Dega that, for all the times he has forged paintings for them, Papi knows little about. He’s never been one to have an eye for the arts, but it is clear, as he stares at the paintings scattered across the walls, that Dega is talented. Papi may not know a lot about painting, but he knows enough to appreciate the things Dega is capable of doing with the stroke of his brushes.

“It’s around here. I just need you to take a quick look and check if anything may be amiss.” Dega says, as way of explaining why he’s going around the studio looking for something. Papi hadn’t really noticed, busy as he is checking some of the paintings out.

“I don’t really have an artistic eye, pal,” Papi says, then shrugs. “But sure.”

Dega doesn’t have any snarky remark about Papi’s apparent lack of taste for the arts, instead, he shrugs too, “It is not always necessary, and it’s also just a formality. You never know, yes?”

Papi shrugs and leaves Dega to his business.

That’s when he notices it.

Among the paintings, one in particular catches his eye; a clear sky, just at the border of some cliff. He supposes that for anyone else, it would just be nice scenery, something to hang in the living room for the aesthetic of it, but there’s… something about it he can’t quite put his finger on, looking over the blue and green hues of it, the white of the clouds, the glimmer of the sea just below the cliff.

He hears Dega then, too, “Charriere?” snaps him out of it.

“It’s Papillon,” is Papi’s gut response.

Dega doesn’t say anything, just lifts up a canvas, showing him the painting that they will need, “Celier got a rather good picture of it, but still. Check it, will you?”

He’s still not meeting Papi’s eyes, as Papi scans the painting. Dega _is_ talented and Papi really doesn’t have an eye for these things, so it looks all right to him.

“If it’s a big deal, Celier can look it over,” Papi suggests.

This seems to ease Dega’s tension a bit. “Just let me know with a bit of time.” he then puts the painting down. “Let me just get this ready and you can go.”

He doesn’t know what it is that pushes him to ask, but he doesn’t think too much about asking, “Where is that?”

“Huh?” is Dega’s reply. Papi points at the painting of the sky and the cliff, and the sea beyond it. Something flickers in Dega’s eyes, far too quickly for Papi to recognize it. He thinks of his answer for a beat, before he says, “A dream,” his tone betrays nothing, but he seems uneasy about being put under this kind of pressure. It is a simple question, though. “I don’t know where it is. I dreamed of it.”

Papi’s eyes drift from Dega’s face to the painting, the tension between them easing yet again now that this buffer exists. “It’s pretty, is all,” he offers up as an explanation even though Dega demanded none. “You have… talent for this.”

“I don’t know if that was meant as a compliment, but I will take it,” he hands over a box, with the painting inside of it, and a handle to which Papi can hold on to carry it. “Here.”

“Thanks. Celier said he’ll hand you the money once this operation is done.”

Dega has already turned his back to him, putting on an apron. He must have other things to paint, either for leisure or for business. He practically waves Papi away, “I know how it goes. Goodbye, Papillon.”

“Bye, man,” Papi says, stealing one last glance at Dega’s back, then another at the painting. For a moment, he thinks he should not leave, but he shakes the thought off; what reason would he have to stay? It is clear he’s overstayed his welcome a bit. Dega probably wants him out of his hair, and Papi, in a moment of clarity, reminds himself that he never even wanted to come, in the first place.

Yet, as he leaves, he thinks of the painting, and of the fact that he never quite noticed the green in Dega’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading x


End file.
